always says that the older you are, the faster time seems to go, and he is absolutely right. And what will Christmas be like if we have no snow on the ground? I know there are a lot of places that don’t ever have snow on Christmas but this is Iowa and it’s an expectation, a beautiful element that adds to the merriment of the season.
We have our artificial tree up. I miss the smell of a real Christmas tree so each year for my birthday my sweet mother sends me a centerpiece for my kitchen table that typically contains real pieces of evergreens and other fabulous smelling things. Real trees are hard to get in the tree stands, rarely are they straight or full, they need to be watered and
eventually they dry out leaving a mess of needles all over the floor. They also are fire hazards. Times have changed but my memories of having a real tree have not.
Growing up we always had a real tree. It didn’t matter the shape
or the size, it was always an exciting event when we got our tree. I can remember many times getting the tree “up” only to have it fall over, spilling water out of the little bucket at the base and scattering ornaments all over the living room. My father eventually became a professional at getting real trees to stand straight and tall. One year out of complete and utter desperation he grabbed some rope, steadied the tree and nailed the ropes the floor. Yep, right through the carpet.
My father has a bit of a shot fuse you might say and others find
it amusing to light that fuse and see the fireworks that ensue. I’m sad to say I had moved away from home when this story happened, I would have loved to have been there to see it:
My parents picked out the perfect tree, paid for it by check and
then drove it home. After my father hauled the tree into the house the phone rang. It was the man from the tree place, he said the tree would have to be returned as it was chemically treated and it was not supposed to be sold. The tree man apologized. Furious my father loaded the tree back up and he and my mother drove back to the tree place to choose a different tree. When they arrived, the tree man was surprised to see them and confused at their story. He didn’t call them and there were no “chemically” treated trees.
Fuming my father drove the tree home again. It turns out that one of my father’s neighbors played this trick on him. Eventually my dad got over that traumatic experience and now it has turned into a wonderful“Christmas memory” that we talk about every year. My parents have since purchased an artificial tree so the stories of “putting up” the tree ended also.
As I look at my own tree, highly decorated on the bottom and
sparsely decorated at the top. Some branches with three or more ornaments on them just because that’s as far as my kids can reach. I hope they too will have some wonderful Christmas memories because it isn’t about the tree or what’s beneath it; it’s about what we put into it.
OK, my sappy moment is over. Happy day passengers live long and prosper!